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The Executrix's New Shoes
Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "OH. MY. God. I found some pumps that are just OUT of this WORLD." Shockwave says, "I calculate that you are preparing to deploy a pun or other verbal japery based on the concept of your feet being capable of space flight. Kindly refrain." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "Well, NYOOOOOOOO. But since you've made yourself available, Shockwave, I was wondering if you could meet me at the nearest G-class star. I got all the stuff!" Shockwave says, "I will locate an appropriate location. It disappoints me that no one has been able or willing to handle the forging for you." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "Well they would have melted. It's a STAR." Shockwave says, "Shielding is the key. I will machine an appropriate rig." Shockwave says, "I have located a Bok globule which is perfect for our needs and will in fact be much easier to work with than a mature star. I will transmit the coordinates." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "En route." Deep Space - Subplanar A Bok globule in early stages of becoming a protostar hangs here, with the early ingrediants of planets swinging around in tight, busy orbits. Icy tails whip out behind each of them, making them look exactly like large comets. In a few thousand years, what you're now looking at may be the early workings of a solar system. More likely it will collapse long before then, and start from scratch. Shockwave arrives somewhat later than Fusillade because he had to fix up the tool rig. It's sort of a giant robot arm with a honeycomb framework at the end, mounted on the underside of the shuttlecraft he took out here. It is terribly dark here, almost as if still in deep space. However, the microwave and far infrared radiation that soaks the area, combined with the distinct gravity well shrouded within a cocoon of gas and dust, indicates this is the right spot. Fusillade is on full alert as she tries her hardest to sweep the area, carrying a travois behind her that is loaded up with limestone, silica sand, and boron from the multitude of raids that she had send Military Operations on. The aircraft's sensors are so fogged by all the ambient radiation, though, that she nearly blunders into Shockwave in the process. <> "Here I am," agrees Shockwave over the radio, outside of the drifting shuttle working on the honeycomb. "Bring the materials here. We will load them into the mold and prepare them for fusion." The sleek bomber rears up, wings collapsing onto hips even as the rear fuselage splits to form arms. The horizontal stabilizer slides up, the forward fuselage folds up accordian style, and Fusillade hops up on thrustered feet. Fusillade bobs briefly, before somersaulting over to the cargo sled, and gliding it over to the framework. Hmm, maybe this would have been easier to mix back on Cybertron. Or Earth. The bomber begins scooping out the sand, a steady stream of granules filtering through her fingers and floating about her. Soon she is surrounded by a cloud that, at at high space speeds, would transform themselves into a deadly cloud of micrometeors -- to the unsuspecting. She manages to spread a generous layer into the jagged, tesselating caverns of the mold that Shockwave brought with him, and repeats the process with the boron and limestone, creating layers -- and a zero-G mess all around her. <> "The penetrating radiation," Shockwave explains, packing the layers tightly with a hexagonal tool made just for that purpose, "causes a thorough 'cooking' effect which provides for a superior crystalline structure in the ceramic." He floats back up to the base of the tool arm with almost undetectable puffs of his maneuvering jets, and opens a panel he has fitted up to control the rig, switching control back over to the shuttle's main console. "The rig is telescopic. We should simply be able to fly the shuttle close to the star and extend the rig." Shockwave flashes his laser in a precise pattern at a scanner on the cargo door of the shuttle and it opens to let him board. Once the shuttle pulls near, Fusillade makes a beeline for the hatch, and tumbles in. "Oh, like carbon microtubes or something like that," she regurgitates some technical speak his way. "So, what should I be doing in the meantime? Other than staying out of the way?" "As you cannot pilot the shuttle," Shockwave replies, "You will operate the rig. I will instruct you on when to extend it." He confidently takes the controls with his single hand and pilots the shuttle closer to the glowing superheated ball of gas and dust. "So... a portion of this will be visible on my exterior, right?" Fusillade asks as she toys around with the joystick, familiarizing herself with the controls. "Well, for thrust vectoring, I know that the ceramics will have to be a certain shape to do their job..." She does a quick image search, and pulls up a picture of an engine test bed. Something similar to this pops on the rightmost viewscreen: http://www.defenseindustrydaily.com/images/ENG_F119_Thrust_Vectoring_Test_lg.jpg "Myah, okay...BUT..." She turns around, and puts on her best innocent face, wide fanged grin and all in an attempt to appeal to the inscrutible Shockwave. "But could I also get some styling like THIS? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?" The screen flicks over to 2030's incarnation of shopping websites: http://www.shoes.com/ProductImages/shoes_iaec1164747.jpg Shockwave looks at the first picture, and then at the second picture. His eye flickers and he produces a quiet clicking sound for several seconds. "I can detect no mechanical advantage in this design. Would this be a benefit to 'morale?'" Sensing an opening, Fusillade nods mightily. "Why YES!!! It'll make me taller so uh... that the troops listen to me EVEN MORE." Her goggles and helmet rattle a bit from the emphatic gesture. Nodding mightily twice means twice as much affirmation! Shockwave pauses a while longer and eventually says, "Then I will see that the construction is performed appropriately. The tesselating hexagons are suitable to many different conformations." A console bleeps at him. "We are at the correct distance from the center of the Bok globule. Extend the rig to its full extension. I will maintain the shuttlecraft's position over the oscillating globule." Sparing a glance at the shifting mass of abject darkness, Fusillade nods, and then guides what is essentially a firing kiln into the protostar. She leans in close to the monitor, as if it would let her better see what is going on. However, aside from a brief yellow-orange flare of a few impurities getting burnt off the surface of the hexagon molds as they are plunged in, there's not too much to see. Fusillade slumps back in her seat, and waits the interminable time required for this to process, oblivious to the magic of carbon atoms aligning themselves in the churning inferno, of the boron interjecting itself where oxygen once was in the sand, fusing to birth a unique blend of glass ceramic that far exceeds any made by man. Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "UGH PRIMUS it's been /EIGHT/ HOURS are they done yet?!" Shockwave says, "Ceramics require patience. It is done." Redshift says, "Did you make a giant cooking pot for rendering fat humans into oil?" Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "NO. Not yet, but that sounds like a pretty good project. Hey, is there anyone on Earth that's available for an engine fitting?" Fusillade rights herself from her prone, languishing position across the shuttle seat. "WHA? Huh? We're done?!" She scrambles back to an upright position in her seat, and with a shifty glance to the commander, nods. "Okay!" She scrambles up onto her ridiculous Segway getup, and wheels off to the cargo bay to inspect the newly forged goods. A moment later, resounding 'OW!' echoes through the hallways, announcing Fusillade's inabilty to resist touching the new toys. Hook says, "I suppose I could set some time aside from one of my projects." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "Shouldn't take too long, most of the work's already been done." Shockwave says, "No, Redshift, although the suggestion has some merit." Shockwave turns the shuttle back towards Cybertron to bring its cargo home for integration into a set of almost-complete assemblies. NCC Medical Ward Like its previous incarnation, this medical ward was designed with the medic in mind, with all the modern advances to make the dirty work of repairs a world easier. It is well lit, the blue and violet metal of the walls and decor is a shade paler here, and the ubiquitous filigree is missing, all to assist in ease of cleaning. Still, the place veritably sparkles. In the furniture, there is a subtle motif of blades and sharp edges, as if to evoke the scalpel of a surgeon, although it is all quite safe. Around two dozen beds, more comfortable than their sharp looks would suggest, fill the medical ward, laid out in a tidy grid, and more can be flipped out of the walls should emergency demand it. A set of tracks on the ceiling mirror the grid of beds, allowing advanced scanning equipment and tolls to be swiveled around to the various beds. Computer terminals and cabinets are molded right into the walls at intervals, and while there are the normal medical security cameras, it appears as if someone has set some of the cameras specifically to watch the cabinets. Blitzwing is on his way out to go see what the new recruits are up to when Fusillade comes in. "'Scuse," mutters Blitzwing, shouldering by the giant stack of cardboard boxes. Blitzwing takes a steel-spun tunnel, as reflective and color-shifting as energon, to the NCC Spinal Pathway to the south. Fusillade weebles on her styoopid Segway wheels, and GUSTY-sighs at the back of the Triplechanger passing through. She then begins bellowing at orderlies to move the gargantuan crates out to the spaceport tarmac. Hook steps out of the workshop to give his brain a rest from all those projects he is running simultaneously. New alloy, Shark's Rib renovations, Omega Supreme restraining device and such. NCC Spaceport This large, empty area becomes a wasteland of frost-blue metal when the shark's mouth is closed, the icy illumination doing nothing to provide warmth or decrease the impression of isolation. A spaceport with no access to the sky serves little purpose, although there is some occasional activity among the warehouses that stand near the Command Center. On either side, ragged teeth interlock perfectly enough to provide a watertight seal, and the roof of the mouth overhead seems even closer than it really is. How long until the beast swallows? The vibration-filtering filigree that supports the Command Center becomes all the more important when the shark is at sea, as the stresses of ocean travel cause a constant, if almost imperceptible, shivering. Several passages wind their way beneath the Command Center, allowing individuals to travel directly into the main body of the city. Hook walks onto the spaceport tarmac carrying a Soylen GREEN toolbox in order to go attend the business at hand. Nice break from all that thinking. Sometimes doing something trivial can help you re-approach problems in a different way. A surprisingly short amount of time passes before Fusillade and the set of four boxes are wheeled out to an unoccupied shuttle bay on the southwest corner of the spaceport. Yanking on the metal bands that bind the fourty-five foot long boxes, Fusillade hisses to herself in pleasure as she sees the tremendous styrofoam forms emerge from the triple corrugated cardboard boxes. "There we go," she remarks, and begins wedging her wingblade into the material to free the multitude of parts. At the sound of Hook's approach, she pauses, tilts her head, and gives a fanged grin. "Hook, that is a FETCHING look for you, I like the working mech angle you've got going on right now." Hook chuckles at the blatant attempt at flattery. Yes it is nice to know people are aware of your awesome skills but it's no reason to cave in and be manipulated either. "Thank you Executrix, know that flattery will get you nowhere but you don't need to stop." The Constructicon approaches the rather large boxes "Engine fitting..." he says as he catches a glimpse of the segway wheels "I can see why. I don't know WHO did such a job but it is a very poor Autobot disguise." Harrow says, "THIS FRAGGIN' DINOBOT!" Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "Drop a building on his head" Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Engage your FTL space thrusters" Blitzwing says, "Almost there. Still not able to get away from him, eh? He's got quite a grip." Windshear tries to reply but nothing but garbled static comes out of his vocal processer and then nothing at all. Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Oh he sounds fine Blitzwing" Harrow says, "Your assistance... is welcome... Blitzwing sir." "Tch, oh HOOK," Fusillade deflects, "We live for millions of years, it's important to not get stuck in a rut. Don't be so suspicious," she puckers hematite lips into a moue. The sheet of styrofoam flies away, revealing the sinuous coils of fuel injector lines and piping, the tremendous chamber that is the heart of the air-breathing atmospheric engines, and the hollows where the newest changes are to be added. An array of hexagonal ceramic tiles freshly forged in a protosta nestle in the box, seamlessly fused together into triangular thrust vectoring slabs. Fusillade scowls. "Oh hardy har har. It'd be funny coming from a Constructicon, but I really think Shockwave didn't have anything special in mind other than being 'efficient'. I've endured worse from him." Hook examines the content of the crates and pulls up Fusillade's schematics on his PDA. "Do not mistake my work for Scrapper's. While Scrapper is quite good and creative. He just does not have that knack for fine tuning like I do. If I read this correctly I have to put in the larger pieces in first after removing those wheels. Hook says, "I will need you to transform for the moment." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "Decepticons, status report." Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "...Fusillade, you have a very strange channel ident" Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Perhaps my communicator is malfunctioning" Hook opens his tool box and grabs the few gizmos he will need to start by ridding the plane of the wheels. "Yeah maybe I will keep them next time I want to punish someone." The Constructicon removes the wheels without too much difficulty and slowly begins pulling out the wires and power cables that were used to control them. He calls out to some gumby "You there! Yeah you the one that looks like a bad Thrust repaint. Bring me that recycle bin over here." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "It will be a non-issue soon, thankfully! What's the situation with the Dinobot?" Harrow says, "We've gleaned some of the material, and are currently heading back. Blitzwing is taking care of the Dinobot..." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "He's... by himself?" Chief Medical Officer Hook says, "I hope your gain will outweight what we have to spend to fix you up after this." Harrow says, "I think Backfire's still down there." Blitzwing shouts over the noise of many rapid explosions. "I'm just holding them off so the seekers can get clear. I'm all right!" Backfire says, "Nay Dominatrix, Backfire has defeated the Junkion who has polluted our airwaves!" Harrow says, "Do not call me that!" Warlord Scorponok says, "Blitzwing!" Warlord Scorponok says, "Do not sacrifice yourself for one so useless as Backfire." Warlord Scorponok says, "Return in /ONE PIECE/" Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "That's... not my title. Got the last four letters right, at least." Blitzwing says, "Sir, yes sir!" Barrage attempts to speak, but all that comes across is a burst of screechy static. Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Do you want me to go rescue Blitzwing?" Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "Oh hi Scorponok, there you are. I can get back to having my heels fitted." Warlord Scorponok says, ". . ." Backfire says, "Fear not, for in a moment...I shall obtain the wretched device he uses to penetrate our communications!" Warlord Scorponok says, "Whatever keeps you effective, Fusillade." "Ehn, yeah okay," a dark brown and green mech responds, plodding over with a bin. Roughshod begins to toss scraps that fall down from the strut removal, before tumbling over one of the oversized cardboard pieces, and going down with a grunt. The Lancer, preoccupied with radio chatter, is blissfully quiet for a moment, but eventually does turn her attention back to Hook. "You're welcome to 'em, ugh! Do you like the way the zinc and titanium folds were worked into those thrust vectoring slabs? I think they're absolutely adorable. And I don't get just one on each foot, either, but two side-by-side! Ooh, Catechism is gonna be eating her liftfan when she sees these!" Hook examines the new 'shoes' It seems no matter what the species one cannot escape the universal constant of femmes and shoe fetish. "They are well built I will give you that." No 'adorable' is just not in Hook's very large and pretentious dictionnary. A quick look at the size of the pieces and begins wrapping them up with some twisted cable with a big metal ring. Not wasting any more time, the constructicon transforms into his crane mode and gently begins to lif the first thruster out of the crate. Hook retracts his arms and transforms into his Crane mode. Backfire says, "Mistress Catechism, is your communication link open?" Catechism says, "It could be. It depends. Are you in more than one piece?" Backfire says, "Yes. Was that a trick question?" Catechism says, "...okay. Are you... glued to anything?" Blitzwing says, "Seeker team is clear. Returning to base." Backfire says, "I know not of which you speak of my Mistress." Several other medics had come around to peer curiously at the project, and Tweak and Kitbash very eagerly, in their OCD way, have pulled out all the twistie ties and left them in a pile at Roughshod's feet. A rush of excitement courses through the bomber's form as rear facing cameras show the approaching engine. So much... potential! She flicks several airflaps in excitement. "What a fine load-bearing technique!!" Fulcrum says, "Mistress is a rank now?" Catechism says, "I am going to go out on a limb and say that yes, my communication link is on. What do you need? - I have no idea, Fulcrum. Mistress Fulcrum? Hmm...." Fulcrum says, "Somehow I don't think it works." Sex on Pipecleaner Legs! Fusillade says, "It sounds AMAZING" Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "AHAHAHAHAHHA" Backfire says, "I have attained that which you ordered of me Mistress!" Catechism says, "Mist/er/ Fulcrum? What about that?" Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Backfire sounds horrid, I am going to cut his legs off" Catechism says, "Oh oh, you got me the annoying Junkion... I mean that one specific annoying Junkion, they're all annoying... you got me the radio?" Backfire says, "The Junkion's intercepting radio is in my possession! He has been silenced!!" Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Backfire state your position" Catechism says, "Excellent, excellent. Now, we must destroy all the Shacks of Radio before he can get a new one!" Backfire says, "Ummm, flying position? Leaned forward, thrusting through the air?" Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Yes yes enough about the thrusting" Space-Going B-1R Lancer sits on a shuttle pad while Hook shoves a big cylinder in her. Catechism says, "Tell me, how did you steal his radio?" The yellow F-16 Falcon transforms into her robot mode with a swift shift of components. Backfire says, "I defeated him in glorious combat, and forced him to surrender it to me." Catechism says, "So you'd say mostly by force, then?" Windshear walks in and heads over toward a corner nearby and starts unloading refined copper rods. They are in every compartment he could put them and then he starts unloading them from subspace. The pile just keeps growing and growing. And it takes him several long minutes before hes done. Less out of context: As the Seeker wing arrives from their successful attack, Fusillade is sitting in alt mode on a shuttle pad, while Hook performs a reinstallation of engines and modified thrust vectoring exhaust. "Hallo!" she chirps with a flick of nose whiskers. "What are those going to be for?" she queries the autumn colored Seeker of his shiny rods. Backfire says, "Yes Mistress, I beat him into a cowering submission. Glory for the EMPIRE!!" Blitzwing is a bit scorched but looking all right apart from that. "So what's all this then?" he asks curiously of Hook, hands on his hips. "New pair of shoes?" Harrow transforms and folds her arms, looking around. "Where the slag is Backfire?" She doesn't bother to help with the bounty. Crane approaches very slowly so as to avoid creating a pendulum movement with the engine because it is annoying to try and stop afterwards. The crane holding the big cylinder approaches the rear of the air craft and gently inserts it. The crane repeats the steps carefully for the other three. "Thank you Fusillade. I pride myself on performing flawless work. Comes from centuries of practice and a burning desire for perfection." Windshear looks back at her and by the looks of his neck, hes not speaking He radios her. "I saw him take off," says Blitzwing with a shrug. "He's probably just slow getting back. Engine damage, maybe. Stupidity, maybe." You receive a radio message from Windshear: Galvatron requested copper. I got it for him. I dont know what he will do with it, not my place to ask. Barrage stumbles in behind Windshear, badly damaged. His entire left side is crumpled and smashed, his throat bears the remains of a nasty looking laser shot. He tries to speak, but all that comes from his nearly destroyed vocalizer is a screeching burst of static. "See, there he is now," says Blitzwing. "Any engine damage, Backfire?" F-16 thrusts through the air like any jet would, transforming and running into the NCC Spaceport. "Nay, I was exacting revenge on those wretched pigeons! They defecated on my hatch!" he notes, pointing to a large white splatter on his chest. F-16 to Decepticon, Backfire is here! "Technically TWO pair!" the bomber effuses toward Blitzwing. As the slower moving, more heavily damaged troops arrive, Fusillade urks a bit to herself. "Well uh... looks like you might have a longer break than you first anticipated, Hook. Could always delegate if Tweak and Roughshod over there don't have too much to do." Once she is satisfied that Hook is clear of her airframe, Fusillade transforms and glances down to admire the handiwork. "Oh, they're magnificent!!!" she squeals in delight at the triangle-shaped, draping segments of the thrust vectoring exhaust panels. Any modifications to the engines aren't really all that noticeable, covered as they are by her nacelles. The sleek bomber rears up, wings collapsing onto hips even as the rear fuselage splits to form arms. The horizontal stabilizer slides up, the forward fuselage folds up accordian style, and Fusillade hops up on thrustered feet. You send a radio message to Windshear: I see! I can find out if you want! Turning on a mangled left leg, Barrage crumples to the floor while turning to head for the repair bay. Pushing himself back to his good foot, he begins to hop towards the door. Clangclangclang! "Ahhh," replies Blitzwing, nodding knowingly. Crane transforms back into robot mode and observes with pride. "I take it you are happy? Is anything loose? Do you want me to tighten up anything?" The green crane unfolds into the robotic form of the evil Constructicon HOOK! You receive a radio message from Windshear: I have other metals to retreive for him as well. Got Silver already, now the Copper. I am somewhat curious yes, so if you do find out and feel like telling me that would be nice. Thank you. Windshear watches the Insecticon make his way out of the port and obviously toward the repair bay. The Insecticons impressed him with his determination to fight that Dinobot. If he could talk hes tell him that. Looking a smidge taller, Fusillade is all smiles as she twists a few times, and takes several test strides. She nods in approval of the sharp rap that the steps make on the tarmac. "Would one gild the lily, Hook?" she asks smoothly, with a smirk. Finally taking a closer look at the battered troops arriving, she frowns, and begins to take her leave. "Many thanks, you and Shockwave performed finely today!" She gives a sweeping bow, accentuated by a flourish of her wingblades Harrow decides it best to head after Barrage, not rightly sure what to make of Fusillade's modifications. "I'd like to point out that Backfire actually /wept/ during battle." A sharp salute goes out to the Lancer, Hook, and Blitzwing, before she turns and heads for the repair bay. Blitzwing nods absently in recognition of Harrow's salute. "Well, you're taller, anyhow. What else do they do? Looks a bit bigger in the heel than the last set," asks Blitzwing. Backfire saunters through, a brilliant smirk upon his face. Looking left and right, his cocky strut only grows as more and more optics settle on him. "I did /not/ weep, twas merely a malfunction in my optic." the Seeker notes, pointing to his one still functioning optic that's covered in smudges. The other is shattered, a black hollow hole. Windshear looks at Backfire and gives a nod. Then with one last look at the pile of copper he has unloaded he realizes he must make a report now. He hates making reports. He nods to everyone left in the room and heads out. Propping herself up on a leg and balancing, Fusillade flaunts the ceramic slabs and their hinged roots. "Don't you just love the way the zinc and titanium fold together in those AWESOME RIPPLES?!" "You have... Damascus feet?" Blitzwing asks. "Looks expensive." Hook looks at the damaged Decepticons who have just returned and rolls his optics knowing very well the kind of work that awaits him. Scrapper has it easy working that asteroid gig with the other guys while Hook handles all the work on Earth. "Huh! I guess so!" Fusillade muses at Blitzwing, nearly falling on her narrow skidplate as she tries to cram her face up to her heel. "Maybe that part is carbon, I kinda zoned out while Shockwave made me wait EIGHT HOURS for this stuff to cook." She plunks her double-heel back onto the ground, hands pertly propped up on hips. "They really DO look awesome, THANK YOU HOOK!" she waves cheerily to the muttering Constructicon as he meanders off to tend to the damaged raiding party. Hook packs up his toolbox and nods to Fusillade "Another happy customer. If you run into any bugs with them let me know and I will make adjustments." That being said he slowly heads towards the medical ward not in any hurry to fix people and is thinking about those segway wheels while giggling like an idiot. "I got a bit cooked myself, getting those kids out from under Grimlock's claw," remarks Blitzwing, only now seeming to notice the carbonizing all over his armor. "Guess I should go get in line." He follows Hook out.